Posted on by JenniferShelby

directions

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The leaf fairy looked around. “Grey castle? Sort of gloomy and made of rocks?”

The traveler nodded.

“You’re heading in the right direction. Keep traveling east through the ogre-infested thicket, then take a left at the river. You might want to write this down.”

The traveler dug out a notebook and pencil.

“The river’s full of sirens, so plug your ears and don’t try to swim across. A few hours walk to your left and you’ll come to a bridge. The bridge troll is reasonable, he’ll let you cross for a handful of moldy berries or a few spoiled apples. Chances are you’ll come across some along the river,” said the leaf fairy.

The traveler scribbled all of this down.

“Once you’re across you’ll come to a fork in the road. Keep right, the left will lead you into a legion of imps and you don’t want that. The right will take you over the Shifting Mountain. Mind the shifting, it feels like an earthquake, but it’s not. The mountain’s a sleeping giant, and he’s a bit ticklish, so when you walk over him he chuckles in his sleep.”

“Does he ever wake up?” asked the traveler.

The leaf fairy shrugged. “Hasn’t for years, you should be fine. Anyway, once you’re over the mountain, you’ve got to turn around and look for a cave. It opens up into an immense cavern and there’s your castle. The giant fell asleep snuggled up to it so it’s a bit tricky to find. Do you have a flashlight or a lantern or anything?”

The traveler shook his head.

“Hmmm. Might be wise to get one at the gift shop in the ogre-infested thicket, though their prices are terrible. Let’s see, I think I’ve got a candle and some matches around here somewhere. Better than nothing, right?” The fairy scurried around a moment before handing them over.

The traveler put them in his pocket.

“Well, then, I best be going. Lots to do before winter!” said the fairy, and flitted off.

The traveler stared at the directions he’d just written down and adjusted his backpack. His gap year was proving more exciting than he’d anticipated. He knew he’d made the right choice coming here instead of backpacking around Europe.

Posted on by JenniferShelby

the seedhead, the spider, and the ogre

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Sure, she’d gone to seed. It happens. Still, she began to feel a little used, pulled in different directions by the weight of his web. She never signed up for helping him catch his prey. She liked bugs – they pollinated her for goodness sake! The day he decided to move into her seedhead without permission she put her foot down. Well, her metaphorical foot. More of a root, really.

It may have been overkill, but she called in a favor from the local ogre. He obliged by crashing through the undergrowth, colliding with the web, and carrying it away, stuck to his hairy ogre arm.

The spider peeked out from where he napped in the seedhead, grumbling. He should have taken the hint, but he was a bit thick, even for a spider, so he cast out a sticky thread and let the wind carry it where it willed.

The ogre, watching all of this and grinding his teeth in frustration, thundered back, plucked the seedhead from the stalk and shook the spider out. Terrified, the spider ran away. The ogre grinned and turned to his friend, realizing too late he had picked her and now she was gone.

“Oh,” he said. He felt bad but ogres don’t dwell on such things. After all, she’d be back next spring.

 

 

Posted on by JenniferShelby

the guild of forbidden fables

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She is the guardian of this forest. She carries its stories in her belly where she will not forget them. Ask her of the tree who walked away, the stream that went to college, and the ogre who wove a cloak of fireweed wool. She will bring them up for you.

Run screaming in fear of her slithering scales and you’ll be none the richer for her stories. Show her disrespect and she’ll introduce you to her fangs. Tell her stories, on the other hand, and she’ll invite you to join her guild of forbidden fables, of which she claims to be treasurer. To enter the secret libraries of the guild, you must first step through her unhinged jaw and descend a spiral staircase deep into her belly. Be prepared, for she will be offended if you hesitate.

You will be rewarded for your bravery. Within you’ll find all the stories never told. The stories have grown lonely to be read within this secret place. They will spoil any reader with mugs of hot, delicious drinks, comfy pillows, and rainy windows to ease their reading. Take heed, for you may never wish to leave again.

Posted on by JenniferShelby

the terrible infestation of a unicorn’s horn

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He left the solitude of his cliff-side home to attend a family reunion against his better judgement. Unicorns are solitary by nature not just because they are introverts at heart, but because meeting in groups can be dangerous. Why, there were germs, viruses, poachers, and narwhals on the hunt for replacement horns to think about!

A week after the reunion his worst fears came true: an infestation of horn-eating beetles. They burrowed into his alicorn, carving out homes, laying eggs, and tickling him in places impossible to scratch! Legend has it the only way to cure such an infestation is to stab a virgin through the heart, but that just sounded rather medieval, foolish, and messy to him.

Still, he tried all the other silly-sounding remedies: ogre snot, troll spittle, and even dragon urine. Then he found a shaman and asked for help. The shaman smudged him with sage thrice a day for a week and soon the beetles moved on.

His alicorn still bore the signs of an abandoned beetle village and the caverns they left behind made an eerie, mournful hum as the wind blew through them. Soon rumors that his cliff was haunted spread throughout the land. The mailman grew too afraid to deliver the unicorn’s mail and he never had to worry about family reunions again.

Posted on by JenniferShelby

she has secrets

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Above the surface the iris was a tempting beauty, but below, deep in the dark of the soil, she has an underground stem with enough poison to kill an ogre in his sleep. She is a favourite of assassins and witches, so be wary of those who grow them in their garden. Or befriend them, which might be wiser, after all.